More Than Words
by Robbi W
Summary: They're always there; in the shadows and in the gloom behind his eyes at night. His fears. They stalk him, and he can feel himself getting closer and closer to shattering every day. What will be his breaking point? Disclaimer: If I owned Merlin I would actually have money and maybe a tiny social life? So no. BBC owns it.
1. Fears

It was cold in Camelot, the nobles wrapped up in warm cloaks and thick woolen trousers, while those of the lower class made do with what they had and took comfort in the warm fires slowly heating their homes. The snow rained down thick and heavy, the shivering servant couldn't see a metre in front of him and was currently cursing kings and their prattish snobbishness through numb blue lips. Merlin buried his numb fingers in his arm pits and watched the breath escape his mouth, trying to reach the castle even as the numbness started spreading up toward his hips. The secret warlock tripped and stumbled toward his king's chambers, mumbling insults under his breath.

Merlin shoved the door open to find stone cold chambers. He looked at the stacks of logs next to the empty fire place and chewed his lip thoughtfully, more out of habit than anything taking a quick look around Arthur's chambers before lifting a few of the logs with a flash of his eyes and putting them in place. The young warlock brought his numb hands infront of him. Surely, surely it's okay if I can't feel my fingers? Merlin looked around the room and ducked his head instinctively to hide his glowing eyes as he lit the fire with a short burst of magic. He grinned a little bit to himself. To think that magic has been at the heart of Camelot for a decade would have given old man Pendragon a heart attack. Merlin went to warm himself near the flames when he heard a gasp behind him. He turned around to see Arthur, eyes shining with pain and betrayal. Merlin's eyes pooled with tears.

"Only for you Arthur, only for you." But the young king just looked at him, fury, confusion and betrayal swirling hurricanes in the light sky blue of his eyes. Merlin stumbled backwards and landed heavily on his back, Adam's apple bobbing nervously in his throat as the king stepped forward menacingly, the harsh winters light glinted off Excalibur's curves as the blade came toward his neck. Merlin closed his eyes and spoke softly, placing himself at the mercy of the king he had once believed in wholly. It was a bit a relief. No more destiny, no more doubts nor regrets. Only death and what lay beyond. Merlin could feel his fingers cramping as they gripped the hard floors at his sides. His tears dripped fast down his cheeks and onto the stone floor as he lay there looking up Arthur's sword arm to his anguished face.

"Arthur, I place myself at your mercy. I'm happy to be your servant till the day I die I meant it then and I mean it now. Do with me as you will." Merlin reached around slowly, careful not to alert Arthur and get his neck slit. He slowly untied his neckerchief and allowed it to fall away from his neck. Merlin tilted his head back to expose his throat and screwed his eyes tightly shut. He knew the sword would be taking his life any moment so he rasped out one last message to his king, determined to get the last word.

"Just, don't be a prat." Now, just one last thing left to do.

Mordred walked through the halls of Camelot red cape billowing out behind him. He smiled at each person as he went, heart light as he saw the acceptance in their eyes, overshadowed by the thought that he would be dead quicker than you could say 'warlock' if someone found out his secret, and Emrys's. Mordred's mind was overcome by hurt, nothing he could ever do could ever please the older warlock. Once upon a time as a young druid, he loved and believed the prophecies and idolized the magic user in them. But after being shunned for so long, despite the words of a hurt child, Mordred was relieved to be with another like him again. Only to find himself shunned all over again by his own kin. That hurt gave to anger and the druid knight continued toward his chambers, scowl set in place. But that was when it had come through, someone opening a mental link. Mordred could feel hurt, anger and… acceptance. The druid came to a halt, blood running cold as he recognized the emotions as the ones of a peaceful man walking to his death. A voice whimpered in his head, one full to the brim of hurt and anguish.

" _Swear to me Mordred, swear to me you will protect him with your life."_ Mordred had barely registered that it was Emrys before he was sprinting for the king's chambers, throwing servants, nobles and knights alike out of his way. The young knight didn't notice the rest of the round table following, or perhaps he just didn't care, he continued his mad dash. As it was, the young knight almost blinded with panic nearly slammed straight into Arthur. But the king wasn't alone. For cradled in his arms was the body of his servant.

Arthur looked at the sorcerer quivering slightly underneath his sword. Though whether it was from the crippling cold or the fear, the young king would never know. He prepared to thrust his sword into his frien- the sorcerer's throat. Words reached his ears.

"Just, don't be a prat." Arthur almost laughed, it was just so _Mer_ lin to use those words as his last. For just a few seconds, Arthur thought of letting his guards deal with it. Let them light the sorcerer alight while he stayed in his chambers. But the screams, the pleas, he could never do that to Merlin, no matter how much magic twisted and corrupted him. Arthur watched as the sorcerer, exposed on the floor, gently untied his neckerchief and tipped his chin back with his eyes screwed shut. Arthur swung his sword in a downward arch, his own eyes closed _. Arthur, I place myself at your mercy. I'm happy to be your servant till the day I die I meant it then and I mean it now. Do with me as you will._ Arthur's eyes snapped open, he hardly registered what he said in the emotional trauma of the situation.

"Guards!" Arthur cursed his cowardliness, now that Merlin was officially taken into custody, actions would have to be taken. Arthur turned his head away as his servant was taken away, not wanting to see the product of his impulse decision. Tears sprung to his eyes as he heard Merlin's pleas and he tried to ignore the guilt tying knots in his stomach.

Merlin prepared for the death blow, he was determined to hold it together. He would not move, he would not flinch nor beg for his life. 'Guards!' No! Merlin thought I can't burn. I won't. He snapped his eyes opened just as guards grabbed his arms and he struggled to get out of their iron grip.

"Arthur! Don't let me burn. Please Arthur, please Arthur." Merlin shook harder and harder, slowly getting taken over by his night terrors. He started to scream and cry as he got stuck in his worst nightmare. The warlock could already feel his lungs burning, his skin melting. He started screaming Arthurs name over and over, completely hysterical in his fear. The guards exchanged a glance and put the prisoner on the floor, holding down his limbs so he wouldn't hurt himself. The men felt pity for the boy, his eyes were overwhelmed with emotion.

"Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!" The boy screamed the name of the one who sentenced him. The elder, having seen many traumatic displays like this one, sent the younger guard to get the king, laws be damned.

Arthur listened to Merlin's screams and cries and slid down the bed post and put his head in his hands. For the first time in years, the king cried over a man who was not his father. When the guard burst in, Arthur didn't even lift his head.

"Get out. Get. OUT!" The young guard swallowed nervously and bowed deeply.

"Your majesty. The boy's having a panic attack, he keeps calling for you." Arthur immediately perked up, not thinking of past orders or expectations but he ran to help his servant. ' _What? So you can throw him to the flames later?_ 'Arthur shook his head free of those thoughts and continued to run, following the screams and cries. When he reached his destination, the young king looked on in shock. Unconscious knights and guards lay both ends and in the middle lay Merlin, staring blankly at the ceiling with flushed cheeks drenched in tears and eyes burning a steady, constant gold. Although his voice was hoarse from screaming, Arthur could hear the heart breaking murmurs.

"No burn, Arthur please. Arthur. No burn. Please." The king hung his head in shame, why did he have to be such a coward?

"Merlin." Arthur whispered softly stepping carefully toward the warlock. Merlin lifted his head slightly, before sighing and smashing his head back toward the floor, Arthur winced as his head connected with the stone.

"I was born a monster. I'm Hunith's bastard." Merlin laughed madly at the ceiling. "Her punishment." Arthur swallowed thickly. Had he caused the boy to go completely mad? Many grown men had gone not right in the head after facing their very worst fear, it seems his just found Merlin's.

"Merlin." Arthur sat next to the mental boy and called his name softly. Merlin cast his golden gaze on the king, guarded and distrustful. What he said nearly stopped Arthur's heart.

"Who are you?" Merlin giggled even as tears collected in Arthur's eyes.

"My magic says protect, protect, protect but then it says lets knock him out and run 'till the land stops screaming." Arthur looked at his former servant.

"The land screaming?" Merlin giggled again even though his mouth tilted down slightly at the corner and his eyes were infected with a small amount of fury.

"Yup! The magic's in pain, so the lands in pain silly." Merlin rolled his eyes childishly and slapped Arthur's shoulder. Feeling more and more guilty about but not seeing any other option, Arthur slammed his fist straight into the young man's temples and carried him to Gaius's chambers.


	2. Fate and Destiny

Mordred looked at Arthur in shock not believing the king capable of murdering his friend.

"Is he dead?" Arthur looked up at his knight, eyes usually better guarded than the citadel swirling with raw emotion.

"No, Mordred. He needs Gaius." The king's voice was hoarse from pulling back his tears as he shoved past the knights and continued to run to the physician chambers. The round table followed him, Gwaine looking murderous.

Gaius counted his poisons and made sure all his herbs and cures were all in the right places. The old man's hands grew twitchy and his mind restless, so he began making potions. It had been quiet lately, no sickness out breaks in the towns and villages, no sorcerers trying to kill the king for at least three days, no nobles rushing in with a common cold yelling to all who could hear that their end was coming in tears and looking as desperate as they sound. His hands drew comfort from the soothing normality of the movements and the familiar feelings of herbs in his fingers.

The door smashed open with a bang and splinters of wood went flying. Gaius looked up from his work with the sides of his mouth tilted down and eyebrow of doom ready. But any reprimand died on his lips when he saw who was coming through that door. Arthur carrying his unconscious ward. Arthur rushed through and put Merlin on one of the cots, praying to all the gods who could hear him that the young man would pull through. Like every time, like the bandits, the armies, the whole inventory of impossible situation the warlock found him in with his king.

 _His King._ Those words made Arthur's head throb and gut twist. He shut his eyes and kneaded his forehead with his knuckles. Somehow, for better or for worse, somehow the young king knew. His life was about to change, his world was about to fall off its axis. And this time there would be no Merlin to pull him through. Arthur looked up at his friend's surrogate father with eyes glazed over in agonizing pain.

"I was a coward." Gaius didn't spare the man a glance, busying himself with getting things setup for his unconscious ward.

"I told them to arrest him Gaius. Now I don't know what to do." Gaius looked down and rested a withered hand on his ward's raven hair.

"Oh my boy." The old man whispered softly. He looked up at Arthur through sorrowful eyes.

"Sometimes I'd hear him scream in the middle of the night. I'd walk in and he'd be thrashing and drenched in sweat. He'd awaken looking broken beyond repair, scratching at his skin with a wild far off look in his eyes. He'd mutter only for you Arthur, only for you over and over until I was sure he'd gone mental. Then he'd look at me through eyes older than men I've seen twice his age and he would say, 'I've failed Arthur, I've failed destiny, I've failed my kin. I've lost my faith.' and roll over and try to go back to sleep. But he'd shake for hours." No wonder, Arthur thought as he looked at his servant through tear blurred vision. No wonder the young man went mad. He'd been strong far too long, his resolve had grown hard and brittle, now it's shattered. Broken into tiny pieces. And the king didn't know if anyone could pick them up and put the man he considered his greatest friend back together again.

Arthur looked up at his knights who had entered while Gaius was giving his speech. Leon and Percival held Gwaine back. Mordred stood next to them, features resigned and eyes haunted, his head was lowered and it looked like Arthur had killed his greatest dream. Tears dripped from Percival's thick jaw line. Leon's tensed face and his mouth tipped down at the corners were the only signs of sadness and confusion being the hardened knight he was with respect drilled into him from a young age. Briefly, Arthur wondered where Guinevere was, than decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He turned completely to face his knights, head lowered in submission, prepared for the verbal abuse about to be hurled at him. Gwaine looked back at the knights holding him with a growl.

"Let me go."

"You will attack the king!"

"No! I won't, Merlin wouldn't want me to. Wouldn't want Merlin to be mad at me when he awakens would we princess? Princess?" Gwaine took in the anguished look in the monarch's eyes and the defeated slump in his shoulder and felt the breath leave him in a huff of air. The knight felt vulnerable for the first time since he left home all those years ago.

"No." He whispered, breathing raspy and panicked. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and shakily nodded his head. Tears tugged free of his eyes.

"He'll not be himself. He's gone mental. Merlin's gone and it's all my fault." Arthur's legs gave out and he sunk to the floor, head in his hands. His shoulders shook heavily as he cried.

It was hours later when Arthur's breathing calmed, he stretched his legs from his chest, wincing as he heard them cracking and popping after misuse. The young king stretched his arms and looked at his knights, thankful to them for staying and offering their quiet support. Even Gwaine was still there, eyes red and cheeks flushed, eyes turned determinedly down from the monarch's face. Leon stepped forward to help him as he stood on legs shaky as a new born foal's. Arthur studied Gwain's downcast face.

"Why?"

"Because he'd kill me for leaving and going back to the old drunk I was, because you were Merlin's greatest friend and I know he'd want me to protect you like he no longer can. Because Camelot is the home Merlin gave me, the knights are the brothers he brought me to and I'll be damned if I throw away all Merlin's greatest gifts to me in my grief." Percival stepped forward.

"I serve because of Lancelot and he did the same because of Merlin. If he will follow you to hell and back than as will I." Leon put a hand of Arthur's shoulder and used his other hand to guide the king's face to face his own, he winced as Arthur's lost expression met his eyes.

"Many of us knights tried to teach you true nobility, courage, honor and humility but still you grew up to be a bully. I would watch with the other knights, the need to tell you off in the forefront of my mind but my fear stopped me. But then there was a peasant boy. He was thin and gangly, his clothes threadbare. He stopped you from bullying the servant, put his foot on the shield and told you your servant had had enough. Insulted you and tried to punch you despite knowing he could not win. I remember thinking he was stupid, I remember grinning slightly as you told him who you were and seeing the look on his face, now I realize that he found out he had just indirectly threatened the prince of Camelot with magic. But that didn't stop him, after getting out of the stocks the next day he caused a big mace fight in the markets. Than just that night he saved your life. That man had more courage than any knight. And apparently more honor and humility than any man I know. I was lucky to have known him. I would be surprised if someone ever served you with half the pride Merlin ever did and I will strive to make both you and him proud." Arthur looked at his knights with his eyes clouded with tears. None of them noticed the missing one of their number.

For Mordred had left the citadel.

Fate and destiny were closing in.


	3. Death in Camlaan

How could he? The thought caused havoc in the soon to be traitor's head. I believed in him and the future Emrys would help him build. But he handed him into burn. _Why?_ The man who saved him countless times, the boy he once considered his brother. _Why?_ I lost my faith, I lost my trust, I lost my hope. Emrys and the Once and Future king had failed his people, his kin, his home. Now it was time to fight back.

Mordred swallowed back his doubt as the dark castle loomed steadily into sight. _For my kin, for my home. For magic._ The young knight swallowed thickly and walked into the castle which reeked of dark magic. He pulled himself up and tried to exuberate confidence, though he was shattered, twisted and broken in so many ways. A guard clad in deep black spun out from an alcove.

"State your name and business." His voice was low and bland, this was a man who no longer had anything to live for.

"I am Mordred, an untrained warlock with no small amount of power. I wish to see the lady Morgana." The guard didn't say a word, simply grabbed the druid's bicep and walked him to the throne room. On the way, Mordred convinced himself he was doing the right thing. Lies, twisted truths and deceit of his own mind suffocated any goodness and forgiveness the young man once held close to his heart. His cherished teachings, twisted and turned, trying to escape the tightly woven blanket of darkness smothering his mind and heart.

The guard walked ahead of Mordred and yanked the doors open wide, the dread knight strode forward, his jaw set. He dropped on one knee and knelt to his true queen.

"M'lady, I've been blinded. I've seen the destruction a true Pendragon can bring, and Arthur is no better than his father. I am sorry, please accept my humble forgiveness. Nothing will bring me more joy than to serve faithfully by your side." Morgana's first though was anger, she looked longingly at Mordred's neck, all it would take was a flash of gold, a small pulse of cold magic and he would be dead. But Morgana had seen the young man in her dreams, seen him slide a sword through Arthur's ribs with a cold smile twisting his features, the look of betrayal on brother dear's face. It was beautiful. So she didn't allow her righteous anger to flash in her bright green eyes. Instead she smiled and dropped from her throne, walking over to where he knelt. Morgana grabbed warlock's shoulders and gently guided him to his feet.

"There," she said softly, gathering the stunned man in her arms. "Come now Mordred, we are magic users are we not. And magic users stick together." The corrupt witch gently kissed Mordred's brown curls smiling when she pulled back and saw a small smile across his face. The young man was so deprived of affection. _This,_ Morgana thought _, this will be easier than stealing bread from starved children in the streets._ She smiled and put a gentle hand on Mordred's shoulder, slowly guiding him to the second best chambers in the castle.

Arthur's eyes had long run dry. He stared blankly at his friend, uncomprehending of what was infront of him. Not understanding how one so full of happiness could lie so pale, how such a good man could become a shell. The young king felt laughter bubbling up in his throat. The broken servant and the hollow king. Why did the man have such faith in him? Arthur continued to stare blankly at the man he'd once dared to call friend, though guilt and overwhelming sorrow tore up his insides. Gaius says he may never wake. His mind was so damaged and he was hit so hard. _He'll never wake and it was all my fault. Oh my brother, what have I done?_

 _Me and my damn pride._ The king felt gentle hands guiding him and he didn't fight, allowing himself to be escorted around his own castle like a child. He didn't fight when they went past the countless servants doing their chores nor when the nobles stared at him from the council chambers. _I can_ ' _t_ _stand on my own. I tried, oh I did, but he was always there nudging me back from the destructive path of my father. Never will I try again, it hurts too much, to be alone in a world of expectation._

The knights exchanged worried looks as their gentle touches guided their king toward his own rooms. They tried to reserve his dignity, but the king leant back into their touch. It both warmed their hearts and worried them that their king seemed to want them there as much as they felt they needed to be. The knights glared at any servants who dared send judgmental looks in their king's direction and stared down the snobbish nobles, eyes glinting dangerously and promising future pain if they so much as opened their mouths. The strange group made their way slowly. Pushing the king more forcefully as he tried to run back to his dying friend. By the time they reached the great oak doors of his chambers, the king's steps were mere shuffles, he swayed as if concussed and had a blank far off look in his eye. Leon tugged Arthur toward the changing screen and gently got him in his night clothes. Each knight picked up the dazed king and lied him down on the bed, drawing the covers to his chin.

"Goodnight my king, we'll not be far." Leon gave Arthur a small smile and sighed before getting a chair from the king's table and setting it up near the newly lit fire, the other knights following suit. Leon resolved to would stay up all night if he had to, anything to ensure his king saw this through. Little did he know, two other knights were thinking the exact same thing.

Mordred turned the sword slowly in his hand, reveling in the feeling of pure magic dancing with his own. The power rolled off the sword in waves as it glinted dangerously in the sun. He looked to the white dragon, body deformed by abuse and soul destroyed by the will of dark magic. Morgana did well, the creature knows its duty.

Arthur Pendragon will die.

In unimaginable pain.

In only days' time.

And the twisted dread knight could hardly wait.

Gwaine looked around desperately, the knights were fighting a losing battle. The Saxons cut down man, women and child without remorse and sorcery burnt their lively hoods to ashes. He saw one women at sword point and ran to save her. He did not think about why she was the only one not cut down immediately.

But later, he would regret that with all his heart.

Eira looked up to Gwaine from where Gaius tended her leg. Gwaine smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry. Gaius is the royal physician. You can't get better care." Eira smiled hesitantly and Gwaine felt his cheeks heat up slightly. Look at me, the knight thought, blushing like a bar maid. This girl has me wrapped around her finger.

"Do you have news from Stowell? Have you heard from my family?" Gwaine sent a panicked look to Gaius who put a withered hand on the young girl's shoulder.

"I am sorry my girl, you are the only survivor." Eira put her head in her hands and Gwaine stood to go meet with Arthur.

Merlin tossed and turned in the dark recesses of his mind. He could see battle. Hordes of knights slaughtering each other. A blond one cut through them desperately, although the young warlock didn't know why, a sense of dread swirled havoc in his heart. The red knights were trapped on two sides. It was slaughter. Merlin pushed a thought to the forefront of his mind, pouring magic into it.

" _Your flank is vulnerable, there is a hidden path and your enemy knows of it. Find the path or it will be slaughter. Find the path!"_

Guinevere and Arthur snapped awake, Merlin's message throbbing in their brains. The two monarchs spared each other a glance before running for the door. They were surprised to see every knight gathered outside.

"Percival! Gwaine! Take a patrol of men to the rear of us. We need to find that path, Morgana will attack before the night is done." Arthur turned to face his gathered men, features confident and determined even if he was breaking inside from emotional turmoil.

"Tonight…we do battle. Tonight we end this war, we end a war as old as the land itself. A war against tyranny, greed, and spite. Not all will greet the dawn, some will live, some will die. But each and every one of you fights with honor, and with pride. For not only do we fight for our lives, we fight for the future. The future of Camelot. The future of Albion. The future of the united kingdoms." Arthur lifted Excalibur above his head.

"For the love of Camelot!"

"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!" The battle had begun.

Arthur brandished his sword as the Saxons beat their shields.

"On me!" Arthur ran into battle with his men following for what was a king if not a leader?

"On me!" Percival roared.

The battle was a mass of men, comrade and enemy mixed together until it was bordering impossible to tell the two apart. Still, they fought bravely. Taking down Saxon after Saxon even if the future didn't look good, they did not lose hope. The knights trust in their king and the great kingdom he could build. Well that was most of them. One of their number was thinking happily about the great odds and wishing someone had invented battle taverns. Arthur slashed through the enemy soldiers with an ease and grace only seen in natural fighters, his training paying off and his title as best swordsman in the five kingdoms shining through. Nothing could touch him, much to the relief of the watching warlock.

The battle almost seemed over too fast even if it was bordering on a new day, dragons rained down fire from the heavens, one for each side until both grew tired one from being too old and one from being too young. Sorcerers brought destruction, but still Camelot prevailed. The Saxons began their retreat in the twilight of a new day. The Camelot knights who still had the strength and breath for it jumped and roared in the direction of the receding army, small smiles on their faces though sadness shone in their eyes.

As his men made their way back, Arthur walked among the fallen of his men, careful not to step on the bodies. He watched for signs of life. The minutes dragged on when he finally saw one of his men wave him over. Arthur ran and knelt by his side, desperately grappling for something to say before he died while cursing himself for the inability to do so. The king didn't get the chance, quiet steps began making their way toward him so Arthur waited. He waited for the coward who dared disturb him while he was trying to give his dying men a final goodbye.

Arthur clashed swords with the enemy knight, pushing back with new found strength. Desperate that his men wouldn't die in vain. Their king would live. But that was until he looked up. That was before he saw a young face twisted with hatred. Arthur's eyes widened and his hand shook as his sword came down to his side. _Morgana, Agravain and now Mordred. If all these people betrayed me do I really deserve to rule?_ He saw a scared druid running down long forgotten passages and the grateful boy seeing his family again. Arthur saw every kind word he'd given to the knight in those times when he thought the boy would grow to be the best of them all. Just like that all the fight went from the king, his sword dropped to his side and he could only watch as Mordred's blade came toward his torso.

As Merlin watched the battle he began convulsing and writhing on the scratchy sheets of the cot. _Protect. Protect. Protect._ He watched as the blond knight walked between his fallen comrades than watched the dread knight walk up behind him with a twisted smirk. The young warlock's heart rose to his throat. Merlin watched, helpless as the sword slid toward his knight, edges glinting red.

That blond knight is important to him.

He needs him to protect him.

And Merlin wished with all his might and magic that he was there.

And he couldn't help but feel happy when he felt a sword sink deep in his gut.


	4. The Dragon Way

Arthur shut his eyes and prepared himself for the coming blow, he flinched when he heard the unmistakable sound of a sword squelching into flesh and the chink of a sword being ripped from a body. But no liquid dripped thick and warm down his sides, agonizing pain didn't tear at his senses. Arthur peeled his eyes open to see Mordred looking at the fallen warlock in shock. His sword dripped with blood, Merlin's blood. Arthur hardly had any control over his actions, he lunged forward sunk his own sword deep in his former knight's flesh.

"I'm sorry you felt you had to do this." Mordred gave his king a tight smile from where he lay on the floor, features shrouded in obvious agony. A tear began dripping down his cheek.

"Me too." His muscles tensed one more time and relaxed. His chest rose and fell. The twisted young druid knew no more. A warlock's tear mingled with the blood pooling on the ground. Arthur thought he should feel sadness at the young man's death, but instead he found the noble boy he once knew died long ago, and the young king mourned that instead. It's strange, how much crushed hope can do to a person. How much downed dreams can darken the soul until there is nothing left but a shell of who they once were. Arthur's eyes widened as he heard gasping breaths and remembered his fallen friend behind him.

The young king sat down amongst the mutilated flesh and blood of the battle field and brought the young man he'd long thought of as a brother close to his chest. He could feel Merlin's breaths growing weaker, his chest barely rose and fell under Arthur's hand. Arthur brought a hand up and gently guided the young warlock's head back to rest in the crook of his neck, he gently rested a gloved hand on his friend's matted raven head and spoke softly in his ear.

"Why?" Arthur felt tears dripping through the gaps in his chainmail as the weak warlock's shoulders shook.

"I don't remember why you're important to me. And I know you've hurt me before. But sometimes I get flashes of banter, of brotherly love and loyalty. I know I believed in you once, but above all I remember you being my best friend. And because of this, I know you're worth dying for. I think I would've died a thousand times over for you and that isn't going to change." Arthur could feel his own cheeks becoming slick and wet as his eyes over flowed.

"You're not going to die you clotpole." Suddenly Merlin's eyes cleared and a small smile came across his face.

"My word." Arthur gasped through his tears and ripped the gloves from his hands, the need to feel his friend's skin before it became pale and cold over bearing. He gently laid a sweaty hand on his pale cheek and each looked into the other's eyes, gazes full of affection.

Merlin brought a hand from his side, arm shaking but Arthur gently grabbed his skinny wrist and brought it back to the magic user's chest, gently stroking it with his thumb in a rare show of emotion.

"I'm sorry." Merlin looked up from where his head lay rested on his friend's shoulder.

"I'm sorry too." Arthur looked down.

"I acted like a clotpole, a prat, a dollaphead and a coward all in one." The young king laughed bitterly. "I guess you were right Merlin but then again. You always are." Merlin's voice was raspy and breathless. And he shook as he felt the sword fragment slowly slicing through his insides in a path set for his heart.

"And don't you forget it." A fond look passed the monarch's face before a shadow of sadness smothered it. He spoke softly.

"You don't have much time do you?" a sad smile flitted across Merlin's features.

"A day, but not here. Please. A clearing in the woods, I must say goodbye to an old friend." Though confused by the request, Arthur shed his heavy armor and chainmail, and re belted his sword at his waist. He picked his greatest friend up from the ground and cradled him gently against his chest. Merlin's eyes rolled back in his head but the young king let him sleep, hoping he would wake again.

Arthur strode through the forest, desperately looking for a large clearing despite his lack of knowledge of the area. Figures appeared ahead of him shrouded in cloaks. The young king went to draw his sword before realizing he couldn't exactly draw it while holding Merlin in his arms.

"Peace, my king, the druids are a peaceful people, we would never see Emrys harmed. Come, lay him here." Arthur inched forward hesitantly before finally laying his friend at their feet. The druid crouched down, hovering and aged hand over the wound. He sucked in a breath and Arthur could have sworn he heard him sob.

"I am sorry, the only beings able to help are the Sidhe at the lake of Avalon and that is many a day's walk from here. The best you can do is grant his last wishes. A clearing lies only a mile from here." Arthur looked at the druid quizzically, he never remembered telling him anything.

"His kin cry for him young king." Arthur shot the druid a searching look before scooping his arms under Merlin's frail body and once again setting off at a gentle lope in the direction he was pointed in.

One last journey. One last time. The king and his warlock. Coin sliced in half.

Arthur crashed to his knees at the edge of the clearing. He shook Merlin's shoulder.

"Wake up Merlin, we're here." Merlin's eyes rolled in their sockets before he finally focused on Arthur who gestured out at the large clearing. Merlin gave him a lopsided smile, mischievousness sparking in his expression before eliciting a sound Arthur never thought he would hear from a human mouth. An animalistic roar echoed in the clearing and Arthur felt freedom and joy bursting inside of him. It wasn't long before he heard flapping above him. It was the Great Dragon who helped them in the last battle. The king almost laughed at the way this absurd situation seemed to make perfect sense, of course Merlin could summon a dragon nothing could surprise him anymore.

The dragon landed with a resounding thump and its gaze overflowed with sorrow. Arthur looked down to where Merlin lay cradled against his chest to see the man wearing a sad smile and tears once again collected in the corners of his eyes.

"Hello Kilgarrah," the dragon shook its large head, Arthur knew if dragons could cry than Albion would be flooding.

"It will be an empty world without you Emrys." Tears began to flow freely down Merlin's face.

"I am sorry, I failed my duties as a dragonlord."

"No." Kilgarrah said. "Your father would be as proud of you as I was to serve you in the ways I could." Merlin grinned, a genuinely happy one which Arthur thought he would never see again, he found himself studying ever ridge in his face, committing it to memory. Merlin's voice came a mere whisper as shivers wracked his body.

"You think so?" The look Kilgarrah gave Merlin could almost be described as tender and loving.

"I know so." The old dragon bowed low, for what was the last time to his dragonlord. Kilgarrah remembered all those times he thought the warlock annoying and obnoxious and regretted every moment. He lowered his head and neck to the ground.

"One last time?" The warlock nodded eagerly. While Arthur looked horrified.

"We're going to ride that thing?!" But Merlin wasn't paying attention, simply looking wistfully to the skies. Arthur sighed and steeled himself. Anything for Merlin. He picked him up and climbed up the dragon's rough scales, setting the dying dragonlord infront of him and definitely not shrieking like a girl when the dragon took to the skies. Soon Arthur opened his eyes and though his stomach lurched and he felt he was going to be sick, pure elation rose up inside him. Merlin looked back and when Arthur saw his face, he could almost pretend the young man wasn't dying despite his slick red shirt and pallid complexion and the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, breath raspy. Although he relied heavily on Arthur just to keep upright, the young warlock's face was alight with ecstasy and there was a sense of calm and belonging which never seemed to fit with the warlock before.

Suddenly his face morphed into a sad expression, tears dancing in his ocean eyes.

"It's been an honor sire." Arthur looked at his friend fondly, gently ruffling his hair.

"No, it was my honor to have such a pure, selfless man at my side brother mine."

Suddenly Arthur was hit with a wave of affection. He lowered his head and pressed his quivering lips to the pallid, sweaty forehead of his greatest friend. A tender, loving act which Arthur never thought himself capable, an act which he had never done to another man before and he knew he never would again. But somehow, every single other act seemed to fall short of the message he wanted to convey. Of displaying the pure love he felt for this man, his brother, servant, adviser, warlock and greatest friend. And the thankfulness for what he did in his life. So as Merlin's glazed eyes began to slip closed Arthur pressed one more gentle kiss to his right cheek bone and couldn't help but notice the bittersweet taste of the sweat and tears as they hit his mouth. Merlin smiled one last time at his king, friend and elder brother as the blue disappeared from between his eyes for the very last time.

" _Thankyou."_ Arthur clutched the warlock tight to his chest, sobs wracking his body as the dragon began angling down to land. As soon as the dragon put his head on the ground, Arthur slid off, hardly registering the pain as he landed hard on his bum. The lost monarch buried his head deep in the raven locks of his best friend. When he finally brought his head from his brother's, he noticed the dead man's expression, a hint of a smile and a serene look on his face as if asleep.

"Please young king, allow me to pay my respects to the last dragon lord. It grieved me greatly in the purge, watching dragonlords die by mortal fire." Later, Arthur wondered why he basically just gave permission for a dragon to cause mass panic in the court yard. But now he only thought of Merlin, and what he would have wanted. So he nodded to the dragon and got flown back to his people.

Kilgarrah insisted on watching them build the pyre, so he could make sure it was done right. Every now and then a loud voice would rumble, causing everyone to quake in fear except Arthur who listened with a slight smile.

"Yes, yes. No! You foolish, stupid insufferable puny human. That goes there!"

It took two days for the funeral pyre to be set up. Not many people lasted long under the dragon's relentless golden gaze. Arthur ended up finishing himself. Not that he minded, it gave him some closure and something productive to do with his hands.

The actual funeral was like nothing Arthur had seen before. His friend lay dead on the pyre as the dragon blew golden mist all over him and the structure. The pyre disappeared and Merlin's body hung suspended in air shrouded in golden mist. The dragon blew white hot flames, encasing the body in an inferno. A dragon rose from the flames, it was a magnificent beast, it glowed blue and tendrils of gold and white moved lazily around it. The dragon stopped near the top of the castle, looking down on the court yard with piercing, intelligent eyes. Both dragons, alive and spirit bowed low to the other and simultaneously roared loudly into the sky, releasing a jet of raging fire into the air, the spirit dragon slowly faded away and Kilgarrah looked mournfully at the skies one last time before taking off. Though Arthur felt he would see him again one day.

Arthur didn't say a thing at the funeral, just stood, body wracked with tears and an aching, burning agony tearing at his heart. It did not dull when his wife put an arm around his shoulders, her own face slick and wet, nor as the body faded away and his brother's dragon soul revealed. He didn't say what the man had done or what traits would be remembered after death like he did for all his knights. He just allowed his sorrow to take him. He cried like he never had before. And he knew that spoke more about what this man meant to him than words ever could.

Because really, his brother meant more to him than he could possibly say.


End file.
